, by
which you will see how really innocent we were in those days.

It grew cold in earnest by November first. And then, all at once, the
gold-painted radiators, as if they had shown what they could do and were
satisfied, seemed to lose enthusiasm. Now and then in the night, when
we didn't want it, they would remember and start a little movement Fromm
the Gotterdammerung, but by morning they seemed discouraged again and
during the day they were of fitful and unresponsive temperature.

At last I went once more to the janitor, though with some hesitation, I
confess. I don't know why. I am not naturally timid, and usually demand
and obtain the rights of ordinary citizenship. Besides, I was ignorant
then of janitorial tyranny as the accepted code. It must have been
instinct. I said:--

"What's the matter with our heat up-stairs?"

She answered:--

"An' it's what's the matter with yer heat, is it? Well, thin, an' what
_is_ the matter with yer heat up-stairs?"

She said this, and also looked at me, as if she thought our heat might
be afflicted with the mumps or measles or have a hare lip, and as if I
was to blame for it.

"The matter is that we haven't got any," I said, getting somewhat
awakened.

She looked at me fully a minute this time.

"Yez haven't got any! Yez haven't got any heat! An' here comes the madam
from the top floor yesterday, a bilin' over, an' sayin that they're sick
with _too much_ heat. What air yez, then, sallymandhers?"

"But yesterday isn't to-day," I urged, "and I'm not the woman on the top
floor. We're just the people on the first floor and we're cold. We want
heat, not comparisons."

I wonder now how I was ever bold enough to say these things. It was my
ignorance, of course. I would not dream of speaking thus disrespectfully
to a janitor to-day. I had a dim idea at the time that the landlord had
something to do with his own premises, and that if heat were not
forthcoming I could consult him and get action in the matter. I know
better than that, now, and my enlightenment on this point was not long
delayed.

It was about twelve o'clock that night, I think, that we were aroused by
a heart-breaking, furniture-smashing disturbance. At first I thought
murder was being done on our doorstep. Then I realized that it was below
us. I sat up in bed, my hair prickling. The Little Woman, in the next
room with the Precious Ones, called to me in a voice that was full of
emotion. I answered, "Sh!"

T